Blanche: Oh, you mean us have some cake? Honey, we can't do that. We're dieting.
Rose: Sure smells good though.
Dorothy: Looks even better.
Blanche: Bet you it tastes even better than that.
Sophia: You three are dieting. I'm throwing it away.
Blanche: Don't!
Dorothy: Oh, girls, we can't do this. Now, remember the party. It's two weeks from Saturday.
Rose: No, it isn't. This year Phyllis moved it to Sunday.
Blanche: Then we have an extra day. We can worry about our bodies tomorrow.
Dorothy: I'll get the plates.
Rose: I'll get the forks.
Blanche: I'll get the hot fudge.
Sophia: I'll get the butter. We may have to grease the doorway to get the three of you out of here.

[flashback:]
Dorothy: Ma, this is all a mistake. We don't belong here. This is one of those Miami Beach shops for little old ladies. Come on, let's get out of here.
Eduardo: All right, ladies. Whose hair do I wash next?
All: Mine.
Blanche: I'm first. I'm the dirtiest.